


Unfamiliar Words

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gamefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-21
Updated: 2008-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaise is familiar with saying goodbye. Hello is something else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfamiliar Words

**Author's Note:**

> The characters and world of Harry Potter are owned by JK Rowling; no infringement is intended and I'm making no money off of this.
> 
> This was written as a background story during a challenge to change one aspect of our character's history in the game Firebird Ascending (prior to the release of DH). The detail changed here is: _What if Blaise Zabini had sorted Ravenclaw?_
> 
> Adding it to my archive here.

Blaise paces through the cold hallways, footsteps echoing upon the stone. He has already hidden in the study for hours, drank nearly a bottle of wine before he was done. He avoids the dining hall, avoids the banners hung upon the stone. Avoids the people who have invaded his home, while ghosts scurry about to light fires, bring food, boil waiter, lay about clean linens.

But there is nowhere he can go where he cannot hear the screams.

They haunt him, even with his mind fogged by drink. They burn in his ears, those tormented sounds and he knows, knows, they are entirely his fault. He prays to God for them to stop, and swears that if they do he will never transgress again.

He slips past his guests, locking the study door behind him, dulling the noise. Finishes the bottle of wine and begins another, and by the end he believes that perhaps the sound has ended. That it is over, and mourning may now begin. He understands mourning, welcomes that darkness into his heart with the calm of familiarity.

A ghost touches his shoulder in shivering cold, whispers in ethereal tones that his presence is required up stairs. Blaise stands and clothes himself in dark tones, casts his face into a mask of proper sorrow, refusing to let anguish seep through. He readies himself to say goodbye.

He apparates directly into the master suite, her name upon his lips. She lies so still and pale, bloody sheets still being carried away by ghosts. He whispers for God to care for her, bear her well upon her journey.

Then she looks at him and smiles, and his heart beats hard in his chest as she rolls over to show him the tiny bundle cradled in her arms. Dark skin and slanted eyes, dark curls around the infant’s head. Cho’s eyes in their child’s face, awake and alert, staring at him.

He sits on the bed, slipping one arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her close. " _Cara_."

"We have a girl." Cho’s voice is hoarse, and in it he hears the echoes of her screams. "Anna Donatella Zabini."

He takes her hand and kisses it, then bends down to kiss the soft skin of his daughter’s forehead. He shakes off his gloom, his fear; shakes off the familiar shawl of mourning. And whispers unfamiliar words, "Hello, Anna. _Mia figlia_."


End file.
